Fine Again
by Glasskey
Summary: This is a sequel to my previous story, Desperation. The story follows Elliot as he struggles to recover from his ordeal in the first story, and to try to regain some normalcy. The last chapter, Chapter 8, just posted. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
1. Chapter 1

Elliot walked into Dr. Huang's office, almost a month to the day that the hospital had released him. At that time Huang had said he would review Elliot's inactive status in a month, so today it was time for the verdict. Over the past month, Elliot had been dutifully attending sessions with Dr. Huang to talk about the abduction and torture that had landed Elliot in the hospital. Eager to hear that he would no longer be sitting behind his desk all the time, Elliot arrived early for this meeting.

"Hi, Elliot; come in. How are you doing today?"

"Good. Feeling stronger. I think I'm pretty much recovered."

"Are you sleeping any better?"

Elliot considered lying, but decided against it.

"Not really. It's like I never can get to sleep entirely. I sort of drift, half-awake. I'm okay during the day, though."

"I'm sure it will get better; give it a little more time. I see you have your cane." Huang gestured towards the staff leaning against the chair where Elliot sat. Elliot had escaped a leg cast for his cracked leg, but had to accept some help from a cane, to keep the weight off that side.

"Only on doctor's orders. I don't need it. I take it with me so I can't be accused of not following my doctor's recommendation. I wouldn't want anything to get in the way of me getting back on active duty." Elliot grinned at his own obvious hint of what he wanted to hear from Dr. Huang that day, and Huang couldn't help but grin back.

"Yes, I know you really want to get back to working at full capacity. I've picked up on your subtle clues."

"Come on, I've been good. Coming to these sessions, doing the physical therapy. What else is there for me to do?"

Dr. Huang cleared his throat. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Elliot, here's the thing. For the most part, you've been very forthcoming about what happened. You have a strong mind and a powerful will, and I have no doubt that you'll be back on full, active duty when you're ready. But you still haven't told me the complete story about what went on those last couple of days you were missing."

"I told you, it's a blur. I was so out of it. If I've given you broad strokes painting the picture of those days, that's why. I don't remember every little detail of what happened."

"See, I don't think you're being completely honest with me here. Those drugs they gave you? I think you would have been wide awake and totally aware of everything going on around you. Why are you holding back?"

Elliot paused, staring through the floor as he wagged his knee at an impatient pace.

Finally he said, "All you or I or anyone need to know is that I screwed up, okay? It's my fault. I was supposed to get those kids out of there and I didn't do it. I ended up trapped with the rest of them, and I failed. I failed them, I failed myself, and…"

Elliot stopped talking and turned a rising shade of crimson as he watched Dr. Huang stifle a yawn and steal a look at his watch.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" Elliot's redirected his anger away from himself and to the doctor.

"Well, you know, Elliot, it's just that- and I'm sure you can appreciate this- I'm a busy man. I have appointments, commitments, deadlines and consultations wall to wall every day. You probably already know this, but I'm also counseling two of the boys who were taken by your abductors. They were two of the first taken, so they've been through a lot more hell than you. I just can't help but think that my time might be better spent helping them than sitting here listening to your tired, and frankly, self-centered speeches that seem to indicate that you think it's all about you."

Elliot leapt out his chair and leaned in towards Dr. Huang.

"What!? Who the hell do you think you are? You're the one who made me do this stupid therapy. I didn't want to be here- I _don't_ want to be here. But nobody asked me what I wanted. I was forced to be here. I wasn't given a choice. I've just been doing the best I can with a rotten situation."

Dr. Huang nodded, then said soothingly, "Now, if only I could convince you that everything you just said is also true about your kidnapping."

Elliot audibly exhaled and sat back down heavily, irritated that he had been baited into defending himself against his own damning words.

"That was different."

"Yes, it was." Dr. Huang agreed, "Here, if you don't show up for these sessions, you might lose your job. There, if you had made one wrong move, you could've been killed."

Elliot rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger but didn't answer, and Huang didn't push him. The doctor waited silently and patiently for several minutes. He knew Elliot was ready to talk but needed a few moments to gather his courage. When Elliot did speak again, his voice was so low Huang had to strain to hear.

"The kid, Justin."

Dr. Huang remembered that Justin was the boy who had killed himself shortly before the rescue.

"What about Justin?"

Elliot had stopped rubbing his eyes, but he continued to cover them with his hand.

"They raped him. In front of me."

Dr. Huang took a deep breath. This was the event that Elliot had kept hidden; this was the breakthrough.

"Why do you think they did that?"

"Because I tried to talk to him in the van. It was punishment. They punished him, and they punished me for talking to him. I tried to encourage him to hold on, stay strong. I promised him I'd get him and the others out of there. And I didn't do…"

"Couldn't." Huang corrected.

"…anything. I thought he'd scream, but he was real quiet the whole time, like he didn't have a soul anymore. I failed him, and that's when he knew there was no more hope. So he killed himself. If I'd just kept my mouth shut…"

"Then what?"

"Maybe then they wouldn't have done that to him, and he wouldn't have lost hope and he'd be alive today."

Dr. Huang spoke quietly but firmly.

"You're wrong, Elliot. They didn't do that to punish you or him, they did that because they're sadists. They're disturbed people who enjoy causing other human beings pain and humiliation. No other reason was necessary. They made you think it was punishment because they knew it would cause you anguish. That's all."

Elliot sniffed as he turned away. Dr. Huang knew that Elliot did not believe him right now, but in time he would.

"Elliot, I can't end our sessions like this. I want us to continue talking at least once a week for another couple or three months or so. But…" Dr. Huang held up a hand to stop Elliot, who was about to protest, "I do think that you're ready to go back on active duty again, and I'm going to make that recommendation to Cragen this afternoon. If that's okay with you."

Elliot relaxed and leaned back comfortably.

"That would be fine. Thanks."

--

Elliot went into work the next day feeling better than he had in a long time. The first person he saw was Munch, who barely glanced up from his tattered copy of _The Haldeman Diaries_ upon Elliot's arrival. Elliot reflected that he appreciated Munch's apparent near indifference to him. Elliot's fellow detectives and Cragen had worked hard to keep the details of Elliot's abduction confidential, for which he felt grateful. However, this secrecy had the unintended consequence of breeding rumor and conjecture, much of which was even worse than what had actually happened. He had noticed it almost immediately: the hushed conversations that abruptly stopped when he walked into a room, the stares from other officers that lingered on him a little too long. He knew he could handle it, but that kind of atmosphere made him all the happier to share the room with someone like Munch, who seemed about as interested in Elliot as he would a day-old ham sandwich.

"So, where is everybody?"

Munch didn't answer Elliot's question immediately; he finished a paragraph, then said, "Our respective partners are cheating on us again."

"Oh. I thought they had that case wrapped up."

"They did, but then they got a tip last night on that one witness they couldn't find. And so here we sit, cuckolded."

During Elliot's month-long mandatory desk duty, Fin had been assigned to help Olivia with a couple of new cases. They seemed to work well together, which caused Elliot an odd twinge. Olivia and Fin had spent so much time working together in the field, Olivia and Elliot had barely seen each other or even had time to talk over the last month.

When Olivia and Fin walked into the room, it was obvious they had been out most of the night. Their dragging steps and disheveled appearance caused Munch to set his book aside and perk up, addressing Fin with amusement.

"So this is what it's come to. First you don't come home all night, then you come here looking like something the cat dragged in, and now you bring your mistress back with you? Just say it. You don't love me anymore, do you?"

Fin threw his irritation and his coat at Munch before crashing into his chair.

"Can't you ever keep it to yourself? Damn."

"Yeah, give us a break, Munch. We chased down that witness almost all night." Olivia similarly fell into her seat, exhausted. "And after all that, nothing. Unbelievable."

Elliot took advantage of the following moment of silence.

"Hey, some good news."

"I could use some of that." Olivia said.

"I've been cleared for active duty. Starting today."

Olivia straightened.

"That's great! Now all we need is a good, new case, and you're back in the saddle."

As though on cue, Cragen entered the room from his office carrying a slip of paper and a look of trepidation.

"Well, maybe this will help. I need two detectives to check out this scene."

Elliot nearly tore the paper from Cragen's hand.

"I know where this is. C'mon, Captain. Give this to me and Olivia. You got Huang's message, right?"

"Yes, I know you're cleared for street work." Cragen appeared less than thrilled at the prospect, but didn't argue. Studying Olivia and Fin, Cragen became even more concerned. "You guys look like you've been out half the night. Maybe Munch should go with Elliot on this one."

"What? No!" Olivia stood and started gathering the personal affects she had just tossed on her desk.

"I know you were out trying to find that witness last night. Are you sure you're up for this?"

Olivia sputtered dismissively at Cragen's objection.

"Don't worry- I'm fine; I'm too wired to rest now, anyway." She winked at Elliot. "Let's go, partner."

--


	2. Chapter 2

(Quick note: Thanks so much for the feedback; I really appreciate the encouragement and hope you continue to enjoy the story!)

In less than an hour, Olivia and Elliot appeared at the doorway of their destination. They immediately saw Melinda Warner leaning over something, her back to the door. Two uniformed officers were standing to the side; one was older, while the other appeared to be green to the job. When they saw the new arrivals, the older officer lightly touched Melinda on the shoulder and pointed towards the door. Wordlessly, Melinda pulled herself upright and stepped back so the detectives could clearly see the victim.

Olivia smirked despite herself, while Elliot turned his head sideways to take in the strange sight.

"Oh, it's another one of _these_." Olivia said. Elliot stepped forward until he was within reaching distance of the body, then crouched down to get a closer look.

"Yeah, why'd you call us out here for this?" Elliot asked.

The body belonged to a rather corpulent, middle-aged man. He wore red, satin panties and a matching bra, both of which were at least six sizes too small for him, particularly with the inflated party balloons that were stuffed in the bra. He was in a sitting position, leaning forward slightly with a wide leather belt looped around his neck, the end of it caught in a closed closet door. The belt was the only thing keeping him from tipping all the way forward to the floor. In front of him a small mirror propped itself against a stack of porn magazines.

Melinda nodded knowingly.

"His name is Marty Mixon; his wallet is on the table over there, with everything still in it. And I know what you're thinking. This looks like a typical, textbook example of autoerotic asphyxiation." She addressed her next comments to the uniformed officers, particularly the younger one. "Some people find heightened sexual gratification by strangling themselves. They'll usually choose a belt or something that will release the pressure off their neck as soon as they sit up straight. The danger is that if they don't calculate the moment just right, they pass out, and the strangulation continues until they're dead. And then they're found like this, adding insult to injury. They do it to themselves, though."

"So, it's a suicide?" The younger officer asked.

"No. There's no intent to kill themselves, they're just trying to get off. So it's ruled as an accident." Melinda explained.

"Which brings me back to my original question. What are we doing here?" Elliot turned and watched Melinda in anticipation as she nudged him back a half step and motioned for the others to gather around.

"I was just about to dismantle all this and have him taken away when I noticed this."

With the help of the two uniformed cops, Melinda eased the dead man back until she was able to gingerly work her fingers under the belt and pull it away from his neck. There, Olivia and Elliot could see the superficial indentations from the belt, but far more striking was the deep, raw impression of what had to have been a thin rope. The spiral-shaped marks were still visible and in an upward angle, from his Adam's apple to his ears. The detectives grunted with comprehension as Melinda turned to the officers to elaborate on what the rest of them already knew.

"This guy didn't die from autoerotic asphyxiation. He died from hanging by a rope that made this mark here, under the belt. From the angle of the rope mark, the rope was probably hanging from somewhere high. Then someone cut him down, threw out the rope, and probably dressed him like this, moved him into this position, and left him here to be found like this. Someone was trying to cover up the hanging by making us think it was an accidental, albeit embarrassing, death. The building manager found him. Imagine his surprise."

Olivia pondered the situation for a moment, then said, "Whoever did this, it wasn't enough for them to be rid of this guy, they…"

"They had to humiliate him, too." Elliot finished her thought.

The two officers standing behind Elliot exchanged a look of sneering amusement, as though recalling a private joke. Sensing this, Elliot darted around and approached them aggressively, stepping into their personal space. His frame easily towered over the uniformed cops.

"You guys have any information you'd like to share?"

"No."

"No, sir." The younger officer added.

"Then why don't you make yourselves useful and start talking to the neighbors while we go talk to the building manager. See if anybody saw anything unusual in the…" Elliot looked at Melinda.

"I'd say the last few days. This isn't a fresh scene."

"Got that? Then go." Elliot continued to watch the officers as they slowly left the apartment. On their way out, the older cop cast a glance at Olivia for some sympathy, but found no purchase in her icy glare.

----------------------

Waiting in a hallway outside another resident's apartment as the superintendent finished up emergency repairs on a water leak, Elliot and Olivia had a moment alone to contemplate.

"How're you holding up?" Olivia asked.

"I'm fine. Great. Do me a favor and don't ask me how I'm doing."

"Sorry. I can't ask my partner how he's doing anymore?"

"It's not just that. It's… forget it." Elliot turned away and concentrated on some notes he had taken before they left the apartment.

"What? Is this about those two cops back there? Don't pay any attention to them. Those guys are jerks."

"No, Olivia. They're just regular guys." Elliot shook his head. "I might as well get used to it. That's how it's going to be from now on. This stain is never going to wash off of me."

"Come on. It's only been a month. People forget. Just give it some time."

At that moment, the building manager emerged from the apartment where Olivia and Elliot had been waiting. Back to work.

The superintendent was an elderly man, crustily charming and seemingly too old to be doing the kind of manual labor his job demanded. Rubbing his hands on a filthy cloth, the building manager chuckled apologetically.

"I'd shake hands, but trust me when I tell you it would not be a good thing for you."

"That's okay. Now, what's your name?" Olivia asked.

"Delman Friedburg. You can call me Del."

"And you found the deceased this morning?" Elliot's turn.

"Yep. Neighbors were complaining about a smell- these walls aren't the best insulated- so I went to go check things out. When nobody answered, I let myself in."

"You don't seem too shocked. That was quite a scene you stumbled on." Elliot said.

"Yeah, well, I've been looking after rental properties for over 40 years now, so I've seen a lot of crazy stuff." The man grunted lightly. "I could tell you some stories."

"Ditto. Listen, did you know Mr. Mixon very well?" Elliot watched the manager's reaction carefully.

"Just enough to know he was a real scumbag." Upon seeing Olivia and Elliot's surprised reaction, the manager continued, "I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but this guy was a piece of work. I was married half my life to the same woman, and sure, there were times we didn't always get along. But never in a million years would I have ever hit her. This guy? He didn't have that hangup."

Olivia thought back to the apartment; she didn't recall any pictures, clothing, knick-knacks or anything else indicating that the victim had a wife.

"You're saying he was married?" Olivia wanted to make sure she had understood correctly.

"Oh, yeah. Her name is Martha."

"And you know for a fact that he was beating her up?" Elliot added.

"I knew it. The whole building knew it. A lady can only do so much with makeup and sunglasses."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"No, sorry."

"Did you ever do anything about what was going on?" Olivia asked.

"I used to overhear her friends sometimes telling- no, begging her, to get away from him and she wouldn't do it. I barely knew her; if they couldn't talk sense into her, what could I do?"

"These friends, do you know where can we find them?"

"Ma'am, I don't know the names of my tenants' friends. But I think some of them worked with her. She works at some accounting firm."

Elliot flipped through the notes he had made from the contents of the victim's wallet before it was bagged as evidence.

"Is this the place where she works?" Elliot showed Del his scribblings.

"Sounds like it. I don't know if you'll find her there, though. I haven't seen her for a few days now."


	3. Chapter 3

In the car on the way to the accounting office where they hoped to find the victim's wife, an awkward silence filled the space between Olivia and Elliot.

"Elliot, I want to talk about what happened back there. I just…"

He put his hand up between them to cut her off.

"I don't want to talk about it. I've been talking about this stuff with Huang twice a week for a month now, I don't need you to be my confessor. What is it exactly that you want from me?"

Olivia threw up her own hands.

"I want my old partner back. Tell me, how do I find him?"

The uncomfortable quiet returned. As time had passed over the last month with Elliot out of commission and Olivia gone much of the time, an awkwardness and strange discomfort seemed to have crept into their relationship. Now, all that tension began bubbling to the surface. Olivia desperately wanted to say something, but nothing seemed right. She finally decided to take the safe conversational route; even when everything else was a mess, there was always work.

"So, I'm thinking maybe she had enough. He punches her one too many times, and she kills him, then tries to cover it up. What do you think?"

"Do you really think a person could single-handedly hang a big guy like that? Not without some kicking, and Melinda didn't mention any signs of struggle. We'll see what the tox screen says. Maybe he was drugged first or something. If not, then there had to have been more than one person involved, and I'm betting not the wife. She works at an accounting firm; what would she know about faking an autoerotic asphyxiation scene?"

Elliot took a left faster than he should have, pushing Olivia against her passenger side door before he continued.

"No, I'm not buying the lone wife theory."

Olivia thought she detected a hint of aimless contempt in her partner's voice, and decided against continuing their discussion until a time when his anger wasn't so close to the surface.

----------------------

Entering the clean but unimpressive office building, Elliot and Olivia found their way to the accounting firm where the first person they ran into was a casually-dressed young man gathering books into a backpack.

"Excuse me, can you tell us where to find Martha Mixon?" Olivia asked.

The young man didn't turn around or otherwise acknowledge her question. After a moment's contemplation, Elliot reached up and jerked a wire hanging from the man's ear, getting his attention.

"Oh, sorry." He turned off the MP3 player in his pocket and focused full attention on the detectives. "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Martha Mixon." Olivia repeated.

"Oh, uh, she's not here today." The young man said, sheepishly apologetic. For an instant he reminded Elliot of Justin.

"Then can you tell us where your boss is? The office manager?"

"Yeah, her office is at the end of the hall here, on the corner." The young man pointed them in the general direction.

After introductions, the office manager invited the detectives to sit in on the other side of her desk. Bailey Miller, a striking-looking woman, settled into her chair and smiled pleasantly.

"How can I help you?"

"Do you have an employee here named Martha Mixon?" Olivia asked.

Bailey clearly became concerned.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"Why do you say that?" Elliot asked.

The office manager studied the detectives warily.

"That husband of hers." Bailey spat out the words. "Everyone here has been telling her for years that he'd kill her one day. Now he's done it, hasn't he? How did he know where to find her?"

"Actually…" Olivia started slowly, "She's not the one who's dead. It's her husband, Mr. Mixon. He was found this morning in their apartment. We're trying to locate his wife."

The office manager's reaction was oddly similar to that of the building super.

"Well, I don't normally celebrate someone's death, but if anybody had it coming, it was him. I'm just glad it wasn't Martha." Bailey tented her fingers in front of her and continued without encouragement. "Martha is a secretary here, and whenever we have a late night to meet a deadline, or we need someone to put in the extra effort to get something fixed or done, she's the first to volunteer. The sweetest person I've ever known, too. But it seemed like every other month she'd come in here, sometimes with her eyes so swelled up she could barely see. Whenever it gets really bad, she stays with one of us. Right now, she's staying with another secretary who's home with a cold."

Bailey pulled a Post-It off her desk and jotted down an address.

"When was the last time you saw Martha?" Elliot asked.

"It would have been the night of our end-of-tax-season party."

Seeing the detectives' inquisitive stares, she explained, "Every year after we get all our clients' taxes filed, or at least get their due dates extended, we have a party. We always do it on April 16th." That had been a few days earlier.

"And was Martha and her husband at this party?" Olivia asked.

"Martha was there, at least for the beginning. She was tired and left early. I made it clear to Martha a long time ago that she would always be welcome at our office functions, but that her husband was not. Even if he had made an appearance, I would have had him removed from the building immediately."


	4. Chapter 4

In the car again, this time on the way to the apartment where Martha was supposed to be staying with her co-worker, Olivia looked at her watch and thought of a new topic.

"We're into the afternoon. You want to grab some lunch?"

"No, we'd better just go find this woman. The sooner the better." Elliot sounded distant and distracted.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to skip lunch? I know you didn't have anything for breakfast."

_How does she know that?_

Aloud, Elliot shot back, "Thanks, Mom, but I'm fine."

The rebuke stung Olivia, and against better judgment she said, "Have I pissed you off? If I have, I'm sorry, but I don't get your attitude towards me right now."

Olivia shook her head and stared out of the passenger side window.

"Why can't things just be the way they were before?"

Elliot didn't answer, but several minutes later slammed the brakes in front of the apartment building where they were supposed to find the elusive Mrs. Martha Mixon. Olivia stumbled out of the car.

"Maybe I should drive for the rest of the day."

Just inside the building, the detectives immediately noticed a sign covering the elevator doors, "Out of Service."

"Great." Olivia huffed. She barely had time to turn around before she noticed Elliot already bounding up the stairs, taking two at a time and quickly leaving her behind. The apartment was on the sixth floor, so Olivia steeled her tired body and started up after Elliot. She was surprised when she managed to catch up to him on the third floor, and upon reaching the fourth floor, she glanced around to realize she stood there alone. She turned around just in time to see Elliot stumble, then partly lean, partly fall backwards into the corner of the landing between the third and fourth floors. Olivia ran back down the stairs and grabbed her partner's shoulder as he slid down the wall. He covered his face with the crook of his left arm and roughly pushed Olivia away with the other.

"My God, Elliot. What's the matter?"

Breathlessly he said, "Just give me a minute. I'm fine. Just… don't touch me."

Olivia continued to hover over him.

"Is it your leg? Can I get you something? What's going on? Talk to me."

Elliot squirmed painfully as he struggled to synchronize his thoughts and speech.

Finally he said, "I think I'm having a flashback, okay? I… just give me a minute, will you?"

Olivia stepped away and searched the surrounding floors and doorways for anyone who might be listening, watching, or – God forbid – recording this scene. She felt vaguely guilty, as though they were doing something illegal and might get caught. That was absurd, of course. Elliot hadn't done anything wrong; the hallucinogens in his system had been forced on him. Olivia wondered how long he would have to pay the price for something he'd had no control over.

After several minutes, Elliot pulled himself to his feet and vigorously rubbed both sides of his face with his hands, as though to bring back the circulation. The effect of the episode was unsettling; he still seemed wild-eyed and now his face burned with too much blood on the surface.

"I'm all right;" he said, "come on, let's go."

Uncertain, Olivia nevertheless followed his slow progress up the remaining stairs to the sixth floor. Elliot started to knock on the door when she stopped him.

"I want you to know that I've got your back. What happened back there, as far as I'm concerned, it didn't happen. You don't have to worry about me saying anything to the Captain or anyone else."

"Since when do you have to reassure me that you're going to be a stand-up partner?"

Without giving her a chance to respond, Elliot knocked. They loudly identified themselves as police the second time they had to rap on the door. At last someone answered. The woman who appeared at the door could have been the occupant, Martha Mixon's co-worker, but Olivia and Elliot immediately knew that this was the woman they had been looking for.

She had been pretty once, but her skin sagged as though it wanted to escape her ragged body. Her sallow complexion housed haunted eyes that spun from one detective to the other, frightened and confused. Her lip still bulged from what was obviously a fairly recent injury; makeup covered any discoloration that may have still been present.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer the door sooner. I was fixing a snack for my friend. She's sick."

"That's okay. Can we come in? We need to talk to you, Mrs. Mixon."

Martha opened the door wider, allowing the detectives to enter the small, unremarkable apartment. After introducing themselves, Olivia continued in a soft voice.

"Mrs. Mixon, when did you last see your husband?"

"Oh, um, a few days ago, before I went to the tax season party at work. I went by to pick up some things so I could come here afterwards. I, um, needed to get away for a while." Martha touched the corner of her mouth self-consciously.

"Mrs. Mixon, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your husband was found dead this morning in your apartment." Olivia watched tears spontaneously steam silently and easily down cheeks that had seen too many tears already.

"What happened?" Martha asked though gasping breaths.

"Actually, we were hoping you could tell us. He was found in a very, er, unusual position."

Martha shook her head, not understanding. Elliot sighed impatiently.

"He was found hanging from a belt and wearing women's underwear. Know anything about that?"

Olivia sharply elbowed Elliot as Martha's previously subdued sobs turned into racking, wailing cries. Giving Elliot a parting, withering glance, Olivia moved closer to Martha in a comforting gesture.

"I don't know. I don't know anything about that." Martha said, gasping.

Olivia continued her questioning in a gentle tone.

"Did your husband have any enemies? It seems he wasn't well liked by a lot of people."

"I can't think of anyone who would do that. Who would do such a thing?"

"Did you have a life insurance policy on your husband?" Elliot asked.

"Well, yes, but it wasn't for much. I didn't stay with Marty for money."

At that moment, Martha's co-worker appeared around the corner, wrapped in a blanket and splotchy from congestion.

"What's going on out here? Martha, are you okay?"

Martha nodded.

"I'm fine. Just go back to bed. I'll bring you a snack in a minute."

Olivia turned to the sickly woman and asked, "Excuse me, but how long has Mrs. Mixon been staying with you here?"

"Since the night of the office party."

"And were you the one who gave her a ride home?"

"No. It was Wendy who gave you lift over here, wasn't it?"

Martha nodded affirmatively.

Martha's coworker concluded, "I left the party early. I wasn't feeling well."

"Right. Thanks." Olivia parted from Martha and started towards the door. Elliot took the cue to also stand and move to leave.

"We're going to need you to come down to the station," Elliot handed Martha a card, "and make a full statement tomorrow morning, no later than ten a.m. Understand?"

The pitiful woman nodded, staring at the address in her hand. She didn't look up as the detectives took their leave.

----------------------

Once again in the car, Olivia wasted no time in confronting her partner.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"You acted like you hated that woman. Since when do we work that way? The second you turned on her she clammed up and got defensive. If she did know anything, we'll have a hell of a time getting it out of her now."

"I changed my mind." Elliot said.

"About?"

"About what you said earlier, that the victim's wife got fed up with him knocking her around and so she set out to kill him and humiliate him. I think you may be right after all."

"That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about what you said. There's no way that pitiful creature in there would or, for that matter could, overwhelm her husband and string him up, then lay him out like that. She could barely bring herself to answer the door; she didn't do this, I guarantee it."

Elliot scoffed.

"Maybe not by herself, but she's not the poor, innocent thing you think she is. Mark my words, Olivia, she knows something, and she's involved."

"Super. So if we assume that she killed him with an accomplice, that narrows the possible list of suspects to pretty much anybody who knew her and hated her husband for beating her. Which could be half the city, for all we know."

Elliot took a moment to ponder this, then changed the subject slightly.

"How about we go by the ME's office and see if Melinda found anything?"

Olivia yawned and reclined her seat back slightly, causing Elliot to reconsider his suggestion.

"Or, maybe we should just go talk to this Wendy who gave Martha a ride over here."

"It's getting late, Elliot. Why don't we just head back to the office? We can call to set up an interview from there. I just want to end this day before it gets any worse."

"It's only mid-afternoon." Elliot's protest went unanswered, and so he steered the car towards their homebase.


	5. Chapter 5

Elliot and Olivia had just arrived within sight of their desks when they heard a familiar voice at an unfamiliar, loud volume. The first few words were garbled, but the last three sounded clearly. 

"…watch your mouth." Munch's voice, coming from the locker room. A few seconds later, they heard the unmistakable crashing noise of someone being thrown against a locker door. Olivia and Elliot lurched into a sprint as they hurried to see what was going on. Cragen, who had heard the same commotion from farther away, followed close behind them.

The partners skidded to a stop in front of a row of lockers in time to see Munch struggling to hold Fin's right arm, which was cocked back and prepared to hit a detective from a neighboring department. The other detective was being pushed against the lockers by Fin's left arm, pinning him there even as he tried to writhe out of the planned trajectory of Fin's fist.

Olivia and Elliot rushed forward to help Munch disentangle his partner from the unfortunate detective who was the object of Fin's anger. As soon as they noticed Elliot's presence, however, little effort was required as the situation seemed to defuse itself immediately. Fin stepped away, letting the detective loose; the detective in turn shuffled away from the locker, trying unsuccessfully to appear nonchalant and unfazed.

Elliot moved closer to the man; he worked in the building and looked familiar, but Elliot didn't know his name. The detective wouldn't meet Elliot's intense gaze, but continued to stare at the floor in a guilty pose that seemed oddly similar to the way Fin and Munch were standing.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Cragen searched his detectives for an answer, but no one volunteered to explain. "Well?"

"It was nothing, Captain. Forget it." The outsider detective said, as he edged towards the exit.

"Not good enough. Somebody better tell me what this is about, and I mean right now." Cragen waited.

Finally Elliot spoke through his gritted teeth.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" He directed the question at Munch and Fin, neither of whom would look at Elliot directly. "This idiot makes some joke about me, and you guys had to lower yourselves to his level and come to my defense. I'm right, aren't I?"

"It's not like that." Fin tried. No one believed him, and Fin didn't attempt to compound his fabrication.

Cragen drooped wearily.

"Is Elliot right?"

The other detective tried to explain first.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just…"

"Shut up." Cragen cut the detective off. "If you leave right now, there's a slim chance I won't report you to your captain."

The detective slinked out of the locker room without another word. Now Cragen turned his full attention to his own detectives. They expected him to unload at least ten minutes' worth of fury, but instead he dismissively expelled the air from his lungs and struggled to find words.

"You guys… I can't, we can't, work this way. You have to be more professional." With this light scolding, Cragen turned to leave. Elliot stopped him.

"That's it? Your detectives almost get into a knock-down, drag-out fight and that's all you have to say?"

"Elliot, please. Let it go."

"No, I'm not going to let it go. For the last time, I'm fine. I don't need anybody getting into fights for me. I don't need defenders." Elliot directed this comment to Munch and Fin. "And I don't need protectors." This comment he directed at Olivia. "I'm not a child." Elliot pointed this statement back at Munch and Fin, then turned again to Olivia. "And I'm not some wounded, stray dog you have to take care of."

Olivia gaped, searching for words.

"I never…" She didn't have a chance to finish forming her thought before Elliot stalked out of the locker room, leaving his friends and co-workers behind.

-------------------

Dr. Huang opened his door, somewhat surprised to find a disheveled Elliot standing at the threshold. He knew Elliot hated his therapy, so his appearance on a day when he wasn't scheduled to be there was unexpected, to say the least.

"Can I talk to you? Just for a minute?"

"Of course." Huang closed the door after Elliot.

Coming back around to his desk, Huang sat across from his visitor.

"So, how'd the first day back on active duty go?"

Elliot did not appreciate the doctor's coy question.

"It's been terrible, but you knew that."

"Any residual health problems?"

"No," Elliot lied, "it's just that, I could always count on my job to be something I could do. I'm good at my job. Now, all of a sudden, it's so different."

"Well, what did you expect, Elliot? That you would catch a case and everything would go immediately go back to the way it was?"

"No… Okay, yes, maybe I did. Olivia and I, we were a team. We were totally in sync, but today, I don't know."

"Did something feel off about your relationship from the beginning?"

"No. At first, it really was like old times."

"And then something happened, yeah?"

Elliot thought back to the room where the dead man in the red satin underwear had been discovered.

"These two cops. They were standing behind me and I knew what they were thinking about me. I confronted them, and then nothing seemed to go right for the rest of the day."

"But that's not new, is it? You've talked about the feeling that others are looking at you in a strange way, talking about you. What was different this time?"

Elliot knew the answer but didn't want to say it. Finally Dr. Huang filled in the gap.

"Olivia was there this time, wasn't she? She hasn't been around much over the last month, and then today she saw how some others react to you since your abduction."

"And then it seemed like the rest of the day, she was this other person." Elliot clutched his hands in front of him. "Sometimes I don't think I'm ever going to be able to move past this. That people are never going to allow me to move past it."

Huang decided to come at this problem by confronting another issue he had been meaning to talk to Elliot about.

"Let me ask you something. Do you resent Olivia for rescuing you?"

Elliot snapped out of the fog of reflection he had slipped into while talking and focused his full attention to Huang again.

"What? Of course not. What kind of person would be mad at someone for getting them out of a dangerous, potentially fatal, situation? I thank God every day for Olivia and that she found me. It's just that…" Elliot hesitated.

"It's all right. You can say it." Huang nodded encouragingly.

"I never had a chance. I could have gotten out of there and saved myself, and those boys, if I'd just had a chance. One chance." He curled his hands into fists and pulled his arms against himself as though he had suddenly caught a chill. "I couldn't catch a break. The one time I came close to escaping, I couldn't finish it. I was too slow. I wasn't smart enough. Something, I don't know. What's wrong with me that I couldn't get out of there and that I had to wait for my partner to save the day? And what was it about me that I got into that position in the first place?"

Huang frowned at Elliot's posture; he was leaning forward, hugging himself, and he was rocking back and forth slightly. A childlike gesture of self-comfort.

"Elliot, you just answered your own question about why you couldn't help yourself or those boys. You were never given a chance. You're smart, strong and resourceful. If anybody could have escaped, it was you. So if you couldn't do it, no one could have." This apparently obvious fact had to be pointed out to Elliot before the weight of the guilt began to lift. But the removal of this concern only seemed to make Elliot's other, unanswered question bore deeper into him.

Without further prelude, Elliot said, "I want to go see Janine."

Janine had been Elliot's primary kidnapper and tormentor while he was missing. Huang paused while he crossed his arms loosely and tipped forward a little in an attempt to subtly identify with Elliot.

"I think that's a bad idea."

"Why? I can handle it."

"Sure. But she's not going to give you what you want."

"And what is it you think I want from her?"

"To see her suffer, which is a normal impulse. She's in prison, probably for the rest of her life. Trust me, she's suffering. But she's never going to give you the satisfaction of seeing her unhappy or defeated. In fact, if given the chance, she'll have you believing there is no other place she'd rather be. She'll say anything to inflict more pain on you. You have enough pain to deal with; you don't need to volunteer for more."

Elliot stared at the floor for a while to give Huang the impression he was carefully mulling the doctor's words.

"What if that's not my reason for wanting to see her?"

"Then what is your reason?"

"I want to ask her something. And I don't want to discuss it here. Not yet, anyway. Is that okay?"

Huang couldn't suppress a smile. He knew that Elliot didn't really care whether he gave his approval or not.

"Just remember one thing. She'll say anything if she thinks it will cause you agony. Above all else, she's a sadist."


	6. Chapter 6

Janine had not yet been transferred to her permanent Federal prison; she was still being held at a jail used to house prisoners awaiting proper transfer procedure to work its way through the system. Normally the guards would not have allowed a visitor into the prison at the hour Elliot arrived; only a few minutes remained for visiting time. With his badge and some persuasive talking, however, he was allowed ten minutes in the visitation room. He tried not to show his anxiety when a guard led Janine into the nearly empty room. Only two other people were still present in the visitor's room, making the most of their short time.

Elliot watched her move across the room. She was smaller, less impressive than he remembered, and her lack of make-up made her appear plain.

Janine's eyebrows went up high on her forehead when she saw Elliot. During his imprisonment, he had learned to read her expressions, and he knew she was genuinely surprised to see him there.

"Well, I didn't expect to see you again. So, what's up?" She asked the question blithely, as though he were an old friend she'd had an argument with and hadn't seen in a while. It occurred to Elliot that in her own sick way, Janine might think they had some sort of relationship. The thought of this possibility made him nauseous.

"Sit down."

Janine sat down as Elliot commanded, but took her time doing it. All the while she watched him; at first her eyes were locked on his, but after taking her seat, her gaze lazily grazed over his body. Repulsed, Elliot had to fight the urge to lash out at her. He would have to pretend it didn't bother him, so he consciously maintained his casual posture, listing slightly to one side and keeping his arm resting on the table between them.

"Look, Elliot, I want you to know something. I've had a lot of time to think in here, and I really wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I deeply regret everything that happened, especially to you, and I…"

"Don't." Elliot cut her off. "I know you're not sorry for what you did. The only thing you're sorry about is getting caught."

Janine's quivering, remorseful voice abruptly gave way to a sputtering bray of laughter.

"I don't regret getting caught. I wanted to get caught, remember? Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a bunch of guys alive and penned up all the time? Not to mention the expense. I just didn't want to go to jail. Thought I had that one figured out." Janine's face went soft in reverie. "I guess I should have gone the extra mile and hired an attorney, but I really thought I had all the bases covered. And, you know, I wanted to look like the poor, innocent girl caught up in circumstances. Oh well, live and learn."

A moment of quiet hung in the air until a guard cleared his throat, tapping his watch at everyone in the room.

"Okay, so you don't want an apology. I give up, then. What do you want? Did you want to see me in here? I put you in a box, so now you want to see me in a box, something like that?" Janine drummed at the table between them impatiently. Elliot leaned forward to emphasize the gravity he wanted to convey.

"I want to ask you a couple of questions. Then I never want to see you or hear from you again."

"Hey, I'm not the one who looked you up. You came here."

"Do you have any remorse at all for what happened to Justin?"

"Justin… Justin…" Janine verbally rolled the name around. "Oh, yeah. He was C." Janine was referring to the alphabetical system she had used to label her victims. Elliot set his jaw in anger.

"His name was Justin. And you killed him."

"Excuse me? He killed himself."

"Yeah, after months of torture and no hope of escape."

Janine smirked slyly.

"It wasn't the lack of hope that drove him to commit suicide. It was the hope you gave him and then never delivered. Even I was never so cruel as to give those guys hope that they'd get out of there alive. So if you're looking to assign blame for Justin's death, you ought to take a good look at yourself."

The old, familiar guilt started rising in Elliot, and a voice in his head berated him that she was right. He knew he had to push through that, though. He was running out of time. Elliot decided to cut to the heart of why he had made this trip.

"I really just want to know one other thing." Elliot took a deep breath. "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"That's not what I mean." Elliot swallowed hard, fearing the answer to this question. "I mean, was there something about me you saw? Some weakness in me? A defect that drew you to me?"

Janine rubbed the fingers of her right hand together, sensing that she once again held his life in her hands and savoring the moment. Allowing herself a few seconds to enjoy the initial thrill, she sighed and reached across the table to touch his hand, which was lying casually on the tabletop. He swiftly withdrew it out of her reach just as her fingertips approached his. She huffed in irritation, but her anger quickly evaporated into resignation and a strangely benevolent calm.

"There were two reasons I took you." She watched Elliot hold his breath in anticipation of her next words and felt a delightful chill. "See, I only got to watch you and your partner for a few minutes. But in those few minutes, I knew she'd chase down the devil himself to get you back. And that, once she caught the devil, she'd be willing to make a deal to sell her soul if it would get you back alive. I counted on that, because I wanted her to be willing to give me my blanket immunity deal. And I was right about all of that, wasn't I?" Janine allowed herself a smug satisfaction.

"And what was the second reason?" Elliot asked with dread.

Janine's features softened again, and she smiled almost charmingly, knowing she was about to give him a gift.

"The other reason was that it just happened to be your business card I found in the trashcan behind the counter in the store that day."

"That's it?"

Leaning back in her chair, Janine clapped her hands together and then opened them wide, like a Las Vegas dealer demonstrating that she wasn't palming any chips.

"That's it."

Elliot exhaled so forcefully, Janine felt the warmth of his breath from across the table. Caught up in the moment, Janine spoke again.

"I truly did like you, you know. You're a fighter, not like those cowering boys. My only real regret is that our acquaintance was so brief, and I couldn't spend more time with you, getting to know you so much better. If I had it to do over again, I would have taken you first."

Elliot grimaced in disgust and loathing and, finding no other reason to stay in this place for one more second, rose, turned and walked out of the room wordlessly as the sour guard escorted him through the visitors' exit. As Elliot strode towards the outer door, Janine's humming rendition of the Hammerstein song, "Getting to Know You" echoed through the hall, her voice following him even after it was physically impossible to hear her anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Arriving at work early the next day, Elliot expected to be among the first to arrive. His expectation was dashed as he surveyed the room, seeing that everyone not only had already arrived, but also was abuzz with activity.

"What's going on?" He asked no one in particular. Munch answered.

"Our favorite human punching bag, Mrs. Mixon, is here to give her statement."

"Already?"

"She said she wanted to get it over with." Olivia added as she sifted through documents on her desk. "Melinda called, too. Mr. Mixon had a small amount of alcohol in his system, below the legal "drunk" threshold. Other than that, nothing. So he wasn't drugged. I also tracked down the co-worker she caught a ride with after the tax party and got her statement yesterday afternoon. I was about to go talk to Martha and see if I could find some discrepancies in their stories."

Elliot moved close to Olivia and leaned in confidentially, although he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Let me get her statement."

Olivia fumbled for a tactful way to say "no way." She didn't have the chance to formulate an eloquent response before Elliot spoke again.

"I know what you're thinking, you want me to trust you, right?"

Olivia nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course."

"Then trust me. I really need to know that you trust me to handle this."

In her heart of hearts, Olivia knew she could not deny her partner anything. Still, she didn't want to seem like a push over, so she took her time answering him. This gave Elliot another speaking opportunity.

"I know you're the one who can best compare the different stories about what happened, but you can watch through the mirror. Come on." He nudged her playfully and flashed a winning, confident smile. Olivia thought he almost looked like his old self again.

"Since you put it that way."

-------------------------------

Martha jumped when the door to the interrogation room opened. The shy but open expression on her face fell away when she saw Elliot enter.

"I thought that other detective was going to be talking to me."

"Yeah, well, we decided I should probably talk to you instead."

Martha pouted at the idea, but clearly resigned herself to her fate. This was a woman clearly used to giving in. Elliot sat across from Martha, his back to the large mirror Martha faced. They both knew that several pairs of eyes watched them from the other side of the mirror, and Martha tried her best to look presentable without openly preening.

"Are you comfortable? Would you like something to drink before we get started?"

"I'm fine. I just want to give my statement and get back to work. I've been out for a few days. I guess you want a timeline of where I was and when I was there."

Elliot nodded and studied her face, making Martha even more self-conscious than usual.

"Your lip is healing nicely. Looks a lot better already."

Without thinking, Martha's hand flew up to her mouth and dabbed at it lightly.

"Your husband hit you a lot, didn't he?"

"I know what you must be thinking. Why didn't I just leave? He wasn't always like… wasn't always that bad." Martha's embarrassment and guilt were obvious.

"I've seen a lot of abused people in this job. I know it's not as simple as just walking away. But your friends, the ones from your work, they seem like they were really supportive of you. That must have helped."

Martha nodded enthusiastically.

"They've been so great. I don't think I would be here without them." She beamed proudly as Elliot considered his next words carefully.

"I know how you feel."

These were loaded words, Elliot knew, and they elicited the response he expected. Martha recoiled slightly and her recent upbeat demeanor immediately shut down again.

"You don't know anything about how I feel."

"I don't know what it's like to be trapped with an abusive spouse for years, you're right. But, do you remember a news story from about a month ago, about the couple who were kidnapping college students?"

Martha looked away, searching her memory. Then she turned back to him, energized from having retrieved the information.

"The couple got caught after they kidnapped a cop, right?"

"Right. That was me." Elliot said.

Martha scowled, disbelieving.

"Pictures and names were kept out of the news, I know, but I was the one they took. My partner and I were investigating the disappearances of the college boys. One of the kidnappers saw me and got hold of my phone number. They lured me out alone someplace where they could get me. I was gone for five days. I almost died." Elliot spoke in stops and starts, not enjoying having to recount even a summary of that experience.

Martha's skepticism melted into wonder and then pity. It was the first time she had felt sorry for another person in a long time. The feeling was a good one. For some reason, it made her feel sturdier and more confident. She reached out for Elliot's hand lying on the table between them. This time, he let the person sitting across from him touch his hand.

"You poor man. You must be a very strong person to have survived that."

"Not as strong as you. I don't think I could have survived the violence that you did for as long as you did."

"Well, like you said, my friends from work have been so wonderful. I couldn't have done it without them."

"I have some pretty good friends at work here, too. They've been very supportive. They've worked hard, trying to protect me, keeping stressful things away from me. Keeping me away from stress. They even kept the details of my kidnapping a secret so that the other cops I run into every day wouldn't know what things happened to me. The ways I was tortured and humiliated."

Martha nodded knowingly.

"They sound like good people."

"They are good people, very good people." Elliot agreed. "But they've hurt me, too."

Unheard by either Elliot or Martha, Olivia caught her breath from behind the mirror and started to mutter a protestation. Realizing the ridiculous futility of it, she stopped herself before she said anything intelligible. Cragen, Munch and Fin silently continued watching from behind Olivia as Casey quietly slipped into the room and carefully closed the door behind her.

In the interrogation room, Martha's confusion was evident.

"How have they hurt you?"

"I've become isolated. Because everything's been this big secret, now those other cops I see every day look at me like I'm some kind of animal in a zoo. They don't know what happened to me, so they make stuff up and spread rumors. I'm having a really hard time doing my job because of that, because people won't deal with me on a professional level anymore. My job is one of the most important things in my life, and for the past month all I wanted to do was get back to it. But the only people I can work with right now are the detectives who found me, my partner and a few others. I think it's going to get better over time, but lately, I've barely been able to function."

"Would it have been better if they hadn't protected you?" Martha asked. Olivia voicelessly seconded that question.

"Not at first. But at least then there wouldn't have been all this speculation, and we all could have moved past it. Instead, the rumors and whisperings are going to follow me for a long time. My friends, they tried to protect me, but they've just made me weaker, made it harder to take care of myself. You know what I mean?"

Martha's uncertainty cleared after a few minutes.

"I love my coworkers. They've sacrificed a lot for me."

"The same is true about my coworkers. But as long as we continue to let them protect us, we're never going to be able to get on with our lives and stand on our own two feet. I'm never going to be myself again until I stop leaning on them. I think the same is true about you. It's time for both of us to step out from under their protection and tell the truth. I'm tired of feeling weak all the time. Aren't you?"

Martha hesitated.

"Martha, I need you to tell me the truth about what happened to your husband."

She gazed about the room, seeming like someone who had lost their way, trying to find the right way out.

"I… I don't know."

"I know you do." Elliot's voice became soft, encouraging. "Come on, stop hiding. They can't shelter you for the rest of your life. Would you want them to?"

Martha chewed on her still swollen lip nervously. At first, Elliot thought that doing this caused her to tear up, but it was something else that brought the crying back.

"It was my fault." She finally sobbed, turning sideways in her chair.

"What do you mean?"

"He… he wanted to go to the party with me that night. The one where we celebrate the end of tax season. I told Marty he couldn't go. Bailey, my boss, she said he couldn't come to the office parties anymore. So Marty wanted me to stay home with him. I told him no. I wanted to go to the party. I was so selfish." Martha fell quiet for a while, and Elliot sensed she was losing focus.

"What happened next? Did he hit you?"

"He smacked me in the mouth. Then he made a fist like he was going to hurt me really bad, but then he just stopped. He didn't speak to me for the rest of the time I was at the apartment. He locked himself in the bedroom and wouldn't come out. I had to wear the same outfit to the party that I wore to work."

"What about after the party?"

"Wendy, one of my friends from work, was going to give me a ride over to Dana's house. Dana is the woman from work who got sick. She said I could stay with her for a while, but she didn't feel well, so she left the party early. Wendy was getting her stuff together to leave when I asked her to let me stop by my apartment so I could get some clothes out of the bedroom. I wasn't able to do that before I left for the party."

"Right, because he'd locked himself in the bedroom."

"Uh-huh." Martha sniffled and continued. "Well, Wendy wasn't comfortable with letting me go back up to the apartment alone with Marty being mad at me, so she offered to come up with me, for my safety. That's when Mark said he'd come up to my apartment with me if Wendy would give him a ride home, too."

Elliot's posture snapped to attention, and he quickly glanced at the mirror behind him to deliver a silent query to Olivia.

_Did you know about this?_

Despite Elliot's inability to hear her, Olivia said aloud, "This is the first I've heard of that. Who's Mark?"

Almost preternaturally sensing Olivia's response, Elliot turned back to Martha.

"Who's Mark?"

"He's our runner. Just a kid, still in college. He's a very smart young man, and so sweet."

Elliot thought back to the day before, remembering the kid with the mp3 player and the books. Running the memory back like a filmstrip, Elliot could see it now: the words, "Intro to Forensic Pathology" in neat, copperplate lettering on the spine of the one of the books. Then Melinda's words floated back: "…looks like a typical, textbook example of autoerotic asphyxiation."

A textbook example was literally what that scene had been.

Martha hardly needed to explain what had happened next, but he let her tell the tale in its entirety. Wendy had waited in the car while Mark and Martha went up to Martha's apartment. When she opened the bedroom door, the shock and horror of seeing Marty hanging slackly from the light fixture over the bed nearly made Martha faint. Fortunately, Mark had been there to comfort her, and after helping her quickly gather the clothes she needed for the next few days, he had escorted her back to Wendy's car. Not telling Wendy what they found, they only asked her not to tell anyone that Mark had gotten a ride with them that night. He would find his own way back home.

Telling Martha not to worry, Mark had borrowed Martha's apartment keys and promised her he would take care of everything. The next day he had returned Martha's keys to her and simply told her that the less she knew about the details of what he had done with her husband, the better. So she had been genuinely surprised to find out the state in which he was found.

Elliot frowned.

"But why? Your husband committed suicide; all you had to do was report it. You wouldn't have been charged with anything. So why did Mark do that to your husband? Was it retribution for the way he treated you? Was it just so he'd be found in an embarrassing position?"

"No." Martha's tears continued to stream unabated. "It was his life insurance policy. He only took out the life insurance on himself about a year ago. There's a suicide exclusion, that if he kills himself within two years of the beginning of the policy, it becomes void. The son of a bitch beats me for years, and then when he finally puts an end to it, he leaves me with nothing. Nothing!"

Martha slammed her fist down on the table, and for the first time, Elliot realized that these tears weren't just a result of sadness for Marty's death, but also represented the rightful wrath that had been welling up inside her for years, until it had absolutely consumed her.

"So you and Mark ask Wendy to lie about him being with you guys that night and about stopping by your apartment, because you told Mark about the life insurance policy, and he said he knew a way to make it look like an accident, didn't he? As long as his death's an accident, you get the life insurance money. And the humiliating situation we found Marty in, that was just icing on the cake, wasn't it?"

Martha's jaw worked up and down wordlessly at Elliot's conclusion before she could formulate words.

"I never intended for him to look bad. I just wanted to have something, you know? Something to show for all those years of suffering."

Elliot sighed.

"Have you made the claim to the insurance company yet?"

"No."

"Well, don't. Or else you'll be facing insurance fraud charges. As it is, I don't know whether any charges can be brought against you for failing to report your husband's death and impeding a police investigation. You may be looking at some conspiracy charges." Elliot shrugged and shook his head. "That's up to the DA, but if you're honest with us from here in, I'll put in a good word for you."

Behind the mirror, Olivia and the others turned to Casey, standing near the back wall.

"An abused, frail woman who reacts badly to finding her dead husband hanging from the bedroom ceiling? I don't know if I want to bother. I may have to charge Mark with something, though. We'll see."

Satisfied, Olivia turned back towards the interrogation room and smiled at Elliot's success in cracking this case and getting to the truth. Knowing, Elliot turned back around to face the mirror, and returned Olivia's grin with a slow, weary smile of his own.


	8. Chapter 8

Olivia barely heard the rapping on her door; she had been home a few hours, and didn't expect anybody. After looking the peephole, she unlatched all her locks and opened the door for Elliot. He seemed tired, as usual, but also relaxed, which was not usual.

"Hi. What's going on?"

"Can I come in?" Elliot peeked over Olivia's shoulder as if he were trying to see something inside. "Or is this a bad time?"

"No, I was just getting ready for an exciting night of sitting on the couch and watching a sitcom." She stepped aside to clear a path for Elliot to walk in. The blaring scent of freshly microwaved popcorn hit him almost immediately.

"So I smell."

Olivia moved past him to the kitchen, and Elliot followed.

"I won't stay long. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for yesterday. I acted like an idiot."

"Yes, you did." Olivia said, as she opened her refrigerator. "But I think if anybody's entitled to an off-day, it's you. Forget about it."

"I guess it's been frustrating for you that I haven't been my old self. Maybe one day we'll get back to where we were. I just want you to know that I'm going to be fine."

For the first time in a long while, Olivia believed his claim that he was- or would be- fine.

Olivia found the bottle of wine she was searching for and turned back to her guest.

"The important thing is that you're here, alive and well. Old Elliot, new Elliot, I'll take any Elliot I can get. I'll never find a better partner than you. And you know, maybe we'll never get back to where we were, but that's okay, because we'll be better."

Elliot smiled and cast his gaze downward humbly at the compliment.

"I know things are going to get better. It's just going to take time. I'm lucky to have you as my partner. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything." Elliot continued looking at Olivia for half a beat, then said, "Well, I don't want to keep you from your big evening. I'll see you tomorrow."

Elliot started towards the door.

Olivia groaned dismissively.

"Oh, please. Just get that bag of popcorn out of the microwave and hurry up, will you? You're going to make me miss my show."

Elliot noticed for the first time that Olivia had already taken two glasses down from her cabinet. She was filling both of them as she spoke. Elliot wondered merrily what wine Olivia chose to go with heavily salted and buttered popcorn. He found the still steaming hot popcorn and the two of them retired to Olivia's couch. They settled down during the opening credits of Olivia's program, placing the bowl of popcorn between them.

Within fifteen minutes, Olivia could see Elliot's head drooping in her periphery. She clandestinely watched his eyes snap open as he pulled himself awake every few minutes, fighting the sleep that pressed down on him. Finally, Olivia turned the volume down on the television, took the barely touched bowl of popcorn off the couch and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. Finding one of her many extra throw pillows, she placed it on her lap and, without any more encouragement, Elliot gradually drifted sideways until his head rested on the pillow. Within minutes, he was completely and deeply asleep in the best rest he had known since his horrible ordeal had started.

As the light from the television danced across their contented, convivial faces, a casual observer would have had difficulty knowing whether it was Olivia's suppressed laughter at the sitcom, or something else, that made the tears silently stream down her cheeks.


End file.
